


Order and Diligence (Are Not Virtues Here)

by onamaewa



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Forced Autopenetration, Hand Jobs, How Do I Tag, Intersex Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, Other, PWP, Vaginal Fingering, almost knotting but not quite, no beta we die like PK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onamaewa/pseuds/onamaewa
Summary: Emilitia was not the first to take advantage of the Hollow Knight's blind obedience, but she was certainly the first to try fucking it.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	Order and Diligence (Are Not Virtues Here)

The Hollow Knight was not, generally, meant to attend to the whims of nobles and courtiers. The fact it did so frequently and without complaint remained an open secret, nonetheless.

It was the king's own knight -- some sort of personal arrangement, as far as the rest of the court understood. Rumored an automaton, nail-bearing and silent, and perfectly fixated, it seemed, on one bug and one bug alone. However, as time had worn on, and the knight grew a more familiar sight, these restrictions seemed to loosen ever so slightly alongside the trickle of further information.

The Hollow Knight, it was said, was some sort of creature akin to a more intelligent kingsmould, bound to serve and obey; a clever creation of their artificer king, and ordained as a key sacrifice for the kingdom. What this sacrifice entailed, the king did not often deign to elaborate upon, but was presumed to involve the plague of dreams which haunted the kingdom's slumber, and the act of putting a stop to it all at last.

Many a noble found the king's care of such a thing strange. He fussed over it like his own child, proving regularly prone to personification, and yet remained entirely insistent on its lack of personhood. The Hollow Knight's intelligence was that of a machine, or so he claimed, limited to commands, instructions, and a simplistic degree of trial and error. It possessed no creative spark, nor any comprehension of the deeds its body carried out, only the barest capacities needed to complete them (and in an undertone, he perhaps admitted that even those were, at times, lacking.)

Whatever the fickle details of its inner workings, one thing came across quite clearly: the Hollow Knight would obey the orders of any bug of reasonable authority, not only to the letter but with neither hesitation nor any heed for itself and its well-being. And though there was plenty of argument to be made for the merit and actual power of any given noble, most, if not all of the aristocracy, counted as authority outside the glowing presence of the king and queen. Indeed, the Hollow Knight would seemingly default to subordinating itself to whomever carried the highest rank in its vicinity, save for when some other (most often the King, unsurprisingly) had left it with standing orders from some prior interaction that might contradict those newer.

Many of the nobles had taken advantage of this at times. It was a convenience and a thrill allowed only by the palace's luxuries, to command one of the king's own knights as if it were a lowly foot-servant, and without a chance of snide backtalk or palace gossip at that. And the Hollow Knight's appearance, in stature and in stoicism, gave an air of unintentional comedy to more mundane commands. For a creature that cut a figure like a stone statue and struck down enemies like death itself reborn as machine, it had a sort of sincerity and clumsiness to it outside of such situations which lent any simpler task such as carrying baggage or retrieving personal effects a sense of incongruous absurdity. 

This was to say nothing of the confessions it regularly bore witness to -- there were always nobles and courtiers and servants alike seeking an audience to air out their grievances without consequence, and a silent knight that understood nothing of the troubles described to it was something of a comfort for those moments. Rumors suggested even the king himself was not above such behavior, although rumor-mongers knew better than to let their gossip become anything more. One did not earnestly imply imperfection in a god.

Some of the upper class, who would not be named, had even taken to practical jokes at its expense, when the king's back was turned and his intentional ignorance presumed. Telling the knight to keep at a fool's task, leaving it to labor, oblivious to the futility of it all, until another came to free it. Telling it to attempt standing on its hands, or to spin in circles, or some similarly ridiculous and demeaning act. Repeatedly claiming it had performed a task incorrectly and demanding it begin again, ad nauseum, watching with awe and poorly stifled laughter as it faithfully followed each correction, never breaking character, never hesitating (though some would swear it began to grow frustrated after a time, nonetheless.)

In short: Emilitia was not the first to take advantage of the Hollow Knight's blind obedience, but she was certainly the first to try fucking it.

***

At that moment in the night, during the ball, the corridor outside was empty of courtiers, and the last cleaning maid had passed by a few minutes before, leaving no distraction, and none to witness. It appeared that the king had, for whatever reason, left his pet project to stand guard outside, bearing their nail and staring into the middle distance as always. The thought had been impulsive -- but who could blame her, for seeing something desirable in that stark and striking form, or letting her eyes and thoughts wander? It was fascinatingly reminiscent of the king and queen in form, enough to stir up still more rumors, and it was hardly taboo to find some inherent draw in the body of a god. 

(Emilitia had seen such infatuation before in plenty of the upper class, particularly in the city's Watcher. While it may not have been frowned on, it had been insufferable to watch that man spend an entire gala looking absolutely nowhere else but at the King. Even the most sycophantic nobles wouldn't go so far. How he maintained any pretense of subtlety, she would never know.)

At any rate, the Hollow Knight had been beside her by chance, and without witness, she had been stuck by the passing urge to make it react. To do so was to play at the unspoken game of gossiping nobles across the city, and though she had not had the chance before, she could hardly pass it up now.

Stopping near, and glancing about to check once more for any bystanders, she reached up and ran a claw slowly down the Hollow Knight's abdomen, just above the groin.

Its shell was far colder than she had expected. She had heard it mentioned before, but the descriptions didn't really communicate the difference -- it was less like touching a dead husk's carapace, and more like something trying to consume the warmth of her own.

The Hollow Knight, disappointingly, did not move. She stroked it again, this time feeling out around where the legs began, searching for some flap or slit or bump to mark a cover or entrance. Nobody was certain what it possessed, if it possessed anything at all; Emilitia supposed if it was lacking in that department as well, she could write the endeavor off as a loss with no bug the wiser.

A nerve-wracked moment passed as some bug inside the ballroom wandered near the doors, but they remained shut, and the bug's voice and the patter of claws on tile faded quickly, with no more than glancing proximity. She did not want to get caught, though she could likely cover her deeds by simply withdrawing her touch and walking away at a casual pace. Or perhaps...

Experimentally, she spoke in a whisper. "Come with me, Hollow Knight. There is somewhere I must lead you."

To her surprise, it looked down at her, as if regarding her with whatever stumbling half-consciousness worked behind those cavernous eyes. It did not move much more than that, but she could imagine its current pose to be standing at attention.

She beckoned it to follow, and started off down the hallway. Emilitia did not know the paths of the palace in any way well, but she could still find a quiet corner, she was certain, without trouble.

The Hollow Knight allowed itself to be led to a corner near a curtained window, out of view of any retainers. The path had been twisting and disorienting, and she was not entirely confident she would find her way back within the ball's duration, but it would suffice. She did not have to direct the knight for much, but after a moment's consideration, she guided it to stand against the wall, nearly covered by the neighboring drapery.

Hmm. To hide herself behind the curtains, and go unseen, or to remain in the open to avoid suspicion? Neither was ideal, but she supposed she would prefer a degree of privacy, should this leave her a compromising position.

Once out of sight, she resumed her attempts. It was difficult, to only discern the Hollow Knight's shape by touch at this angle. It was far too tall for her to grind her hips against its own. She could try pressing herself against its knees, perhaps, but she hardly believed that would give her the response she hoped for.

She climbed up onto the window-sill, the window mercifully overlooking some empty yard of fences and sparring dummies and nearly too ornate to be seen into regardless, and she found herself far nearer to the knight's own height. At the least, its abdomen now sat below eye level, which was more than she could have said a minute ago.

Allowed sight, the objective became far simpler. She could just make out a noticeable divot between its legs, at the front of the abdomen. It was shallow enough to be disguised by surrounding plates, but the seam had no clear joints to match. Gleefully, she pressed a claw to it, gently prying at the slit within, testing the waters. The Hollow Knight still did not flinch, but she might crack it yet.

Another thought, impulsive again. "Hollow Knight?"

It stared down at her again. "Touch yourself here." She rubbed at the slit, for emphasis.

A second went by, and it did not break its gaze. She had heard it did not blink at all, and she was beginning to think that was true. Then, diligently, the Hollow Knight placed one great spindly black hand on its own crotch. It did not seem to understand the implication of her command, as it simply stood there in position, awaiting her next order, but Emilitia supposed that was to be expected. The knight apparently tended to require more specific instructions, and was notoriously literal-minded in interpretation.

"... move it up and down, I suppose," Emilitia instructed it. She had not actually considered having to teach the thing _how_ to get itself off, though she found herself not entirely disinterested in doing so.

The knight followed her instruction, and slid its hand up and down over its slit. The whole thing came across as strangely entertaining, and she could not say whether it was the fact of the knight so mindlessly obeying her orders to do something so lewd, or that fact it clearly didn't have the faintest clue what it was doing or how to do so effectively. After a moment longer of this fruitless nonsense, she shook her head. "Right, no. Stop now. You're awful at this."

The Hollow Knight stopped mid-motion, as if transformed into a statue of itself. Emilitia thought again for a moment, then elected to change tactics. "I've an idea. Put your hand out, palm-up."

It did, and she stepped forward on the sill. She had to pull the hand down to get it at the right height, but fortunately it did not resist. Rather than have it take initiative, she straddled over the knight's forearm and pressed herself against it, humming pleasurably to herself as she settled down. The chill of its carapace added an invigorating rush, this time, like touching herself with a chip of ice. "Mm-hm. Just keep it there."

It did not object.

After enjoying herself a bit on the Hollow Knight's frigid body, she reached out and touched it again, at that slit. It would take a little patience, clearly, but she had a suspicion now she would make it break, if she only made the right move. (And if she did, she'd be the talk of the nobles for who knew how long! Who else could claim they had made a god's machine flinch?)

Emilitia worked at the slit, sliding a teasing claw between the plates, levering to try and coax it open. She could swear she felt the knight's rigid stance trembling, and let it fuel her, rocking harder and steadier against its hand and arm as she did. Soon, its whole body seemed to twitch under her claw, however faintly, as she rubbed and pried at the spot.

Something wet and cold as rainwater dribbled down her arm, and she watched, enraptured, as the Hollow Knight's strange slit began to leak something dark and ethereal. For a second, it crossed her mind she might have harmed it, that this was some abyssal ichor leaking from its form like the king's other creations did when injured, but the knight did not flinch away, and she imagined it to be made of hardier stuff. The liquid seemed to originate from the slit, regardless, with no other surface source.

A promising development! She continued, with more rigor than before, drawing out more of the odd inky fluid as the slit at last began to ease open. The Hollow Knight's claws seemed to spasm beneath her, and she leaned into it, letting them press into her own entrance.

She felt a stiffness give way at the slit, and the plates separated between her claws to open an entrance of its own. A softer, more giving substance pushed at the hole from within, and she used a claw to pet it, encouraging it to emerge. Between the rhythm of pleasure at the knight's hands, she watched as a slithering dark appendage poked its head out from the knight's slit, writhing like an unfurled tongue. The whole thing had the chill of the rest of its body, and the proportion as well; the size of it, as it slid squamous from its home, was comparable to the length of her full forearm and thicker around, though the undulating shape made some dimensions difficult to judge.

"Oh, there you are," she said, soft and sing-song, addressing the appendage more than the knight. She turned her attention upward to see if the Hollow Knight had any reaction, but its face remained impassive as ever. Absent any clear seam or demarcation, she wasn't actually sure where its mask ended and its face began. Perhaps it had none at all, but that was no matter so long as she could sufficiently arouse it, she imagined.

Emilitia petted the appendage, running her claw-tips down the length of it as watery black fluid dripped onto the floor, and smiled to herself as the knight's abdomen jerked forward slightly at the contact. So close, and she was hardly near done. She pulled herself nearer and hooked her legs around the knight's thigh, clinging with her other hand to its upper arm, only barely still standing on the sill.

It was then that the appendage, rather unexpectedly, revealed itself to be prehensile as she stroked it again, curling around her wrist in a twisting coil. The liquid it secreted burned her skin with cold now, and the hand pressing at her entrance had grown colder as well despite the prolonged touch. Perhaps the cold, for this creature, was the equivalent of warmth for an ordinary bug, and the drop in temperature was a sign of the exertion of arousal? She drew herself tighter around its constricted limb and thorax, and squeezed gently.

This time, she could feel it tense and quiver beneath her -- both the body, and the appendage in her claws. The tongue-like thing squirmed in her grip, contracting and pushing forwards, angling left and right, up and down, as if searching for some orifice to insert itself into.

As she probed around it, strangely, she found the slit to continue beneath the knight's appendage, deeper and more welcoming like her own. She had assumed the appendage some form of cock, but the gap below suggested both parts were present. A curious feature -- she supposed it was alleged as genderless for this reason, then, as the Hollow Knight's full sex appeared genuinely indeterminate. Another impulsive thought occurred to her. She seemed to be having many of them, tonight.

For a moment she was torn between two equally entertaining options. While she found the idea of letting the knight's appendage enter her a wonderfully compelling one, enthralled by the sensation of unearthly cold inside her, she did not wish to risk the consequences that all too often befell careless fools in affairs. She had no clue as to whether the Hollow Knight was fertile, and while the king's descriptions would suggest not, the rumors of its possible parentage left her chances rather uncertain. She did not wish to risk carrying the spawn of a god, nor of whatever exactly the Hollow Knight was. Not in her prime, and not unplanned, no.

The alternative, though less sensually enjoyable, was far more amusing to consider.

"Hollow Knight," she ordered, forcing back a rising giggle, "offer to me your other hand, and let me guide it."

It did, and she took it by the wrist. Deftly, she made it close the hand around its own cock, and turned the appendage to twist and loop back beneath itself. The rigidity of the knight's pose had loosened as it allowed her to move it, and she could sense a jerking motion to its hips now, increasingly poorly restrained.

"Now, put your cock into your slit," she told it. The giggling did not stay as well-contained this time, nor the smile beneath her mask.

The Hollow Knight's gaze bored into her for a long moment, and Emilitia could not say if it was shocked, questioning, or simply hesitant. Either way, victory was within her grasp. Perhaps quite literally.

After this short pause, the Hollow Knight obliged. Its approach turned out a little more intelligent now, as if driven by instinct amidst the arousal and distraction of her guidance and using it as a sex tool for herself. It pressed one long claw into its own slit, deeper below, then maneuvered the tip of its still-moving appendage into the hole. The appendage, finding an entrance, appeared to take on an initiative of its own, rippling wormlike as it began to force its way into the knight's own body.

Its hand shook, almost frantic in motion, and a second later the Hollow Knight's whole body thrust forward from the hips into nothing, some long-suppressed breeding instinct no doubt overtaking what little awareness it had, trying to couple with a perceived mate. She snorted in an entirely unladylike fashion as it continued, bucking forward again into a phantom partner, oblivious and desperate. What a pathetic thing!

An idle memory came to light: that the king had, on at least one occasion, described the knight as his Pure Vessel. She all but cackled aloud -- pure, this creature? As if!

"You're not pure at all, are you?" she taunted, trying to time her movement of rocking against it to the pattern of its own. The knight did not answer her, of course, but continued to thrust and enter itself in some self-perpetuating mating frenzy.

With the motion coming from both of them now, she was getting into a sort of heated state herself, all itching under her cloak. She pulled the cloth away from her shoulders, removing one hand from the knight's thorax for a moment to undo the pin while the other limb held her position, and discarded it in a pile on the sill.

She leaned in again, putting her face as close as she dared to the Hollow Knight's neck while it still moved like this. The thrusting had progressed to full-body shudders, rippling from its groin to its bending knees and snapping its head back at the apex of each push. The ridges of the carapace around its hip and thorax made a glorious texture against her front, and the knight's forearm had unconsciously wrapped around her legs as she climbed higher, allowed her to reach her now freed hand to encourage the knight's unoccupied claws into her slit.

The hand was a level above the arm, for certain -- the feeling of the claw-tips pressing, sliding into her now far more open space betwixt her legs, which she had spread wider to accommodate the knight's size while climbing it. She let out a shaky breath that weighed itself down into a sigh, deepening her own rocking motion as she eased the claws farther in. The tips were wonderfully pointed, and while they were a bit lacking in the spikes and barbs of the average nobleman's member, the pinch and bumps of the curiously distinct joints offered a novel texture they could not.

The two of them did not quite move as one, bug and machine, but the synchronous push and pull proved enjoyable still. The Hollow Knight's horns clattered against the wall behind it, and its abdomen slammed against the stone and metal in the windup of each thrust. She must have taken its claws up to the knuckle, nearly, by the time she reached that penultimate feverish flurry of climax.

With a final burst of energy, she finished, basking in the haze and warmth of after. The Hollow Knight had not stopped, still bucking against air with its writhing member curled inside itself in a spectacular show of solo copulation. She wondered what endurance its nature might have lent it, and how long it would continue if she gave no order to finish.

Emilitia withdrew its hand from her slit slowly, savoring the sensation, and let herself drop back down onto the windowsill. She sat there and reclined against the convex glass of the window, legs dangling from the sill's edge, to enjoy the view.

The Hollow Knight carried on for some time, though the light beyond the window neither dimmed nor brightened, static as it always was. Emilitia's interest had actually begun to waver, somewhat, by the time it finished, with a last shove that sprayed black onto the curtains, buckled its legs beneath it and nearly collapsed it where it stood. It leaned against the wall, visibly spent. She watched as its member wriggled and drew itself back out of the passage, still leaking that strange black substance. The stuff was slicked down its legs and coated its hands, as well as her own, though now it seemed to evaporate in the more temperate air.

Out of curiosity, she lifted a claw and let down her antennae to smell it. It had been produced similarly to a lubricant, but upon close inspection, did not resemble any mechanical fluid such as oil, in taste or viscosity. The scent and flavor registered as nothing in her mind, lacking even the ordinary taste of her own shell and fluids. A shame, but intriguing.

The Hollow Knight's strange cock finally pulled out the rest of the way, and waved lazily in the air. Emilitia, now a little clearer-headed, rose to her feet again and examined the knight's body. Dark fluid still spattered down its front, the slit still open -- regrettably, she realized, it had stained the curtain, her cloak, and the Hollow Knight's cape alike. She groaned, making a brief token effort to wring out the fabric before deciding it a lost cause. She could dispose of it and find a change of clothes, if she needed. It was likely late enough in the ball that few would notice the change, least of all those reasonably intoxicated.

"Well then," she said, to nobody in particular. "That was certainly an adventure."

Mercifully, drawing the curtain hid the stains well, and they were hardly obvious in nature. The most difficult aspect would be the Hollow Knight's cape, which carried the mark of their debauchery and their form printed on it, clear as ink on a scroll. She huffed and grumbled to herself for a moment, poking around at the fastenings at its shoulders to see if the cape might be removed and replaced, before some retainer or noble saw. That would require a replacement, though, and she hardly had a broad range of options.

Unless... Well.

She supposed the long, white curtain of the next neighboring window might suffice.

Carefully undoing the little metal hooks along the back of its ceremonial pauldrons, Emilitia pull the knight's cape off and let it drop to the floor. The Hollow Knight's body, impossibly, achingly cold, shivered as she touched it. Still sensitive, no doubt. She let her hand wander down, and noted that with whatever seed it might have carried now splattered across its front, there would be little risk of any troubles unforseen.

"One more task, Hollow Knight," she announced, still keeping her voice down. Though, with the way its horns and frame had collided with the wall, she suspected her voice should be the least of her concerns. She stretched up onto her toe-tips to position herself, nudging the Hollow Knight to face her properly now, into the space behind the curtain. "This time, you're going to put that cock inside me."

It did not hesitate as before, compliant before her as always, but with an edge of what she could not help but read as _need_ in its trembling haste. It widened its stance, to more easily let her reach, and stood steady to let her take its member in her claws again. The dark, roiling thing was soft and pliant now that it possessed no drive of its own, smaller and almost sluglike, and the dark fluid was all over her again. She would really have to wash after this.

She ran her claw down the length of it again, drawing a little circle around what she guessed to be the tip. The shape was indistinct and inconstant, and she could not quite tell, but the whole thing seized in her grip, already trying to move again. "Be a dear and help me guide it in, won't you?"

It assisted her one-handed, having already reached the other hand to reclaim the nail it had abandoned against the wall when they began. She tutted. "Both hands, please. Leave the nail be, for now."

It hesitated again, briefly, but did not disobey.

The touch of the thing was even better than the knight's claws, she decided almost immediately. Though the earlier session had tired her, the feeling of the Hollow Knight's member wriggling inside her like so many tongues was another new and exciting experience from what she had been expecting to be an evening of petty drudgery and little else. She took a few tiny steps forward, closing the gap between their bodies, and reached down beneath to slide a finger under its cock, into the curious space below. This, more than taking its member, seemed to set the Hollow Knight off; it thrust once like before, seemingly involuntarily, and the rippling of motion inside her was downright divine.

(With the rumors, perhaps it was exactly that.)

She pressed again with two claws, feeling around, as the Hollow Knight tensed and jerked with each well-placed twist and pinch. A few times, she seemed to misfire, provoking weaker reactions or none at all, but it didn't take long to get a sense of which spots and what touches would induce another thrust, and she hooked a leg over its hip to keep her balance as she let it couple against her. The motions turned faster and sloppier as it went, until she felt like seeing stars from the euphoria of it. Her own insides tingled with cold, and her fingers felt nearly numb, but oh, to be able to brag, however confidentially, that she had made this creature mate with her so!

However, it was not quite to be; well before the Hollow Knight had finished, she realized she could not quite feel between her legs any longer for the cold, nor most of her hand. The pleasure began to fade, no longer able to stimulate herself with the thrill and touch of its body and she could not quite figure out how to proceed.

"Hollow Knight, stop again," she told it, sourly. Under other circumstances, she would have been delighted by the way it took a moment to respond to her command, and still vibrated with energy of an unfinished act as she slid the cock back out of herself. It was stubborn, to her surprise, and she only withdrew it most of the way before the tip remained, stuck inside her.

She stared at it for a long moment. "Hollow Knight, cease this. I wish to extricate myself."

The Hollow Knight watched her impassively, making no move to assist until she gave another, uncomfortable tug, and it shuddered. With one hand, it reached down and attempted to aid her, pulling at the end of its member, which did not budge, no doubt meant to linger until full coitus was achieved.

Emilitia scowled and gave it one final yank, kicking it in the shin as she did so, and it finally popped free, like a cork from a flask. The tip was stained with what looked painfully like hemolymph, and she winced. Hopefully that wouldn't be too noticeable, nor too unpleasant when sensation returned to her there. The pulsing tip of the member, as if sensing it had been removed, spurted a burst of dark ooze and went limp, deflated and directionless.

"What a waste," she commented, once again aimed at no bug in particular. She wiped herself clean on her already ruined cloak, and as an afterthought, wiped down the front of the Hollow Knight as well.

By the time she was done, her sensitive slit had begun to ache amid the pins-and-needles of returning sense, but she had made up her mind that she did not, particularly, regret this night. It was the best ball she'd ever attended. Though, should the king ever learn too much, it would quite possibly be her last.

Now, to see about unstringing that curtain...

**Author's Note:**

> me @ myself: hey what the FUCK
> 
> Also for posterity's sake, let's just assume Hollow spends most of this fic swinging between absolute panic and Do Not Think Do Not Feel (repression noises), because that's... basically what's going on here.
> 
> Edit 09/21/2020: fixed some minor spelling/grammar and continuity issues.


End file.
